


Not the first or the last, but possibly the prettiest.

by The_Dark_Side_Of_Cookies



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:06:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Side_Of_Cookies/pseuds/The_Dark_Side_Of_Cookies
Summary: From the unlucky person ever to the luckiest man alive and he didn't even win the lottery!Patrick sneaks away from his room to go to a concert, he's a teen, every teen does that don't give him that look.What will he find? Friendship, alcohol, weed, music and maybe love.





	Not the first or the last, but possibly the prettiest.

**Author's Note:**

> So I found a better version (at least I personally think it's better) of this story in an abandoned folder on Google Drive and I decided to post this one.
> 
> Inner conflict  
> [I JUST WANT TO POST THE OTHER CHAPTER ALREADY, BUT I'M AFRAID TO RUSH THINGS AND MAKING A GARBAGE OUT OF THIS FIC]

It was a December's night, the sky was dark above their heads and even though the moon was shining bright it looked like a magnet on the fridge, out of place somehow.  
William and him were in front of the pub, Patrick was wrapped in a huge green hoodie, bangs of hair dangling right in front his eyes tried to hide is pale face. He was wondering how William wasn't freezing in that red t-shirt and that thin leather jacket.  
The long row has been halved as realisation hit Patrick.  
«Wait, what we gonna do if they ask us our IDs?»  
William close Patrick’s mouth with his hand smiling a the woman that was staring at them.  
«He's kidding» William said laughing.  
She neither has cold, Patrick thought looking at her microscopic skirt.

At the doorway the brown haired guy passed without problems, the doorman, a mountain in Patrick opinion, doesn't even asked for his ID.  
Patrick tried to emulate him, tried to walk like nothing mattered, like the whole world was in his little hands.  
You need to act like him, he thought. Confidence and smiles.  
None can stop you.  
You’re already in, man.  
No one can stop you.

Except him.

The man at the door.

The most huge, terrifying amount of muscles Patrick has ever seen.

«Hey, kid I think it's your bedtime»  
He said pushing Patrick slightly.  
Patrick breathed through his nose clearly disappointed and a little mad.  
«Oh, come on! I’m not here to get wasted. I’m here for the music, I’m a big fan of the band»  
And it was true.  
He loved Chicago’s music scene, especially the punk part of it.  
He was so angry.  
Darn! So Angry at his round face and his lack of height that he didn't even hear the roar behind him.  
«Hey Bob, this little one’s with me» Someone said putting an arm around Patricks neck end pulling the kid inside.  
The golden haired guy was trapped between the man's elbow and chest and the only thing Patrick knew was that was glad that the man smelled good (coconut and sand, just like summer).  
His skin was also warm and smooth and comfortable, he could totally stay like that forever.  
Patrick couldn't believe that a perfect stranger was his way to see his favorite band, he opened his mouth to thank the mysterious man, but the only thing that come out was a strangled “wow”.  
His benefactor laughed, a deep and hot laugh that warmed Patrick’s cheeks.  
The tanned arm snaked away from his neck, Patrick caught a glimpse of ink and smiled.  
Tattoos were cool.  
«Pete! The diva’s here guys. Move your stupid ass we're waiting!» Someone said and Patrick held his breath. He had a perfect view of the man now.  
He was a short (taller than him, but short), tanned guy who was smiling all white teeth and honey eyes.  
«Patrick! You’re here!» Yelled William.  
«Patrick, eh? I’ve already missed the check sound, they’re gonna kill me, see ya later?»  
Check sound, maybe Pete was a sound tech or- Pete.  
That guy was Pete.  
Pete Wentz the freaking singer of Racetraitor.  
It couldn't be true. It wasn't true.  
He was dreaming, wasn't he?  
«Enjoy the show kid» Pete said to an astonished Patrick before jogging through the stage.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine only. Everything here is a fruit of my imagination and blah blah blah.  
> Also English is not my first language I hope it doesn't suck.


End file.
